


Pet, Pest, or Neither?

by star_named_andy



Series: Paws-itivity [3]
Category: The Hobbit (1977), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BardXThranduil, Barduil - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, cat!Bard, kitty!Bard, thranduilxbard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 19:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4071670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_named_andy/pseuds/star_named_andy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Thranduil has found himself stuck with an interesting new companion, will Thranduil treat him like a pet, a pest, or neither?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pet, Pest, or Neither?

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of its characters or content.)

Thranduil stood absolutely still; if it were not for the motion in his chest, which was growing rapidly as he began screaming internally and attempting to analyze the situation at hand, someone may perceive him to be a statue placed in a very odd artist’s dream. His eyes were so wide he feared they might actually fall out of his skull and he worried that if he parted his lips, all that would come out would be a horrid shriek. _Nonononono_. He must remain _composed_ , yes, _calm_ and _in control_. Thranduil Greenleaf did. Not. _PANIC_.

Despite this fact, the truth of which was hanging by a thin thread ready to snap (and oh, was Thranduil clinging to that thread for dear life), he felt as if he’d combust as the brunette man with the cat appendages peered up at him from beneath his lashes expectantly. All he could do was stare back, horrified, in response.

A trick! A joke! That was the only plausible explanation to suit this bizarre scene. The ears and the tail were fake. Yes. Yes they were, certainly, one hundred percent fake. Everything was so advanced these days, so it was no wonder the ears and the tail looked so seamless and realistic! Movie makeup magic was perhaps the explanation. The scenario was still disturbing nonetheless because this was obviously his son’s idea of a horrendous joke: hiring a stripper (or whatever the hell this guy was, seeing as his clothes were already off) and dressing him up like a cat with Bard’s dressings was downright insane, in Thranduil’s opinion. It had to be Legolas’ scheme, since no one else knew they’d brought a new pet into their home.

What was the purpose of this setup? Was this Legolas’ idea of Thranduil having a good time, relaxing, and relieving stress as he always said he needed to do? Thranduil would think his son would have better taste than this and be less… _promiscuous_ in his idea of fun. God, was that a mortifying thing to even think of, Legolas brainstorming such adult ideas! Thranduil was no fool and knew very well Legolas was a young man enjoying what pleasantries fresh adulthood could bring, but he wasn’t prepared to know anything about that part of his son’s life.

The man blinked at him and Thranduil swallowed a lump in his throat. He had to speak eventually…but what was he going to say?

“I can finally talk to someone and he’s not saying anything back! This was not how I wanted our first conversation to go, because it’s not much like a conversation at all. It’s only me talking and that’s not a conversation. But, oh, it feels wonderful to really speak again! What’s wrong? Why aren’t you petting me? I like it when you pet me! Come on, I’ve been alone for hours!” the man whined and bumped his head into Thranduil’s abdomen.

No nonsense. Thranduil took in a sharp breath, extended his arm, and planted a strong hand on the man’s head, pushing him away gently, and the stranger looked very confused. He moved his hand right away, not wanting to overstep his bounds…even though this man was nude in _his_ house…in _his_ _bedroom_ for god’s sake.

“I’m sorry, but it seems there’s been a mistake.” Thranduil spoke sternly, cloaking himself with his businessman demeanor. The peculiar guest tilted his head, his eyes still just as wide as before and pinned on Thranduil. His gaze made the blonde incredibly tense and uneasy.

“Mistake?” he inquired.

“Yes; I don’t know under what pretenses my son invited you here, but I don’t want any of your services. If you haven’t been paid, I will do so, and then you may gather your clothes and belongings and be on your way.”

“Ha, you’re weird.” The man said with a smile and moved back on the bed, flopping on his back and then rolling onto his side.

 _What?_ Had he just ignored everything Thranduil said?

Now the brunette’s defined chest was not the feature that made Thranduil sweat, but instead it was his thick, toned thighs that led down to slim and fit legs that were curled in a delicate way which hid the man’s precious gems. The angle in which he laid was flattering and enticing, tugging on Thranduil’s inner thirst for closeness and passion. The stranger’s rump stuck out almost proudly; whoever this man was, he was a natural as far as eroticism was concerned and it was overwhelming. He looked utterly comfortable lying in a stranger’s bed and something dark and carnal stirring inside of Thranduil wanted to destroy that comfort and replace it with something insatiable. He could just leap onto the bed and ravage that sweet body just _lying there waiting for him_ to pound a beautiful red shade into the skin until the sexy little brunette begged for – NO! No, no. Thranduil forced his thoughts to an immediate halt before his body could get too invested in them. 

Thranduil shook the cloud of lust from his head and concentrated on the man’s fingers dancing around one of his ties which was close to his face as he toyed with it. What was his fascination with it, Thranduil wondered? The thought was brief, as he then remembered other articles of his clothing were strewn about. Was this part of the act?

“I mean it.” Thranduil said, his tone rising into a more threatening one. As he spoke, he was, in actuality, trying to convince himself that he really meant it.  

He just wanted this man to be gone, out of his house, out his head. His eyes swelled even further as the brunette clenched his teeth down on the tie a he fiddled with and shook his head, biting into the material with malintent. If this was supposed to be funny or cute, Thranduil wasn’t seeing either.

“Get out before I call the police.” He warned and the brunette sat up on his knees with the tie still hanging in his mouth. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, noticing the sharpness of the man’s canines as he spit the tie out and let it drop onto the bed. His cat ears sunk, just as his mouth did into the shape of a frown.

“I haven’t been _that_ bad, mister. I’ll clean it up, okay? Then will you pet me? I’m bored and I need to be pet. I’ve been home alone _so_ long and I’m very bored.”

“No!” Thranduil shouted and the brunette’s posture faltered. He shrunk down shyly.

“Don’t be mad.” He spoke quietly and lifted his hands, his fists balled up. He started rolling them into Thranduil’s chest and the blonde took the opportunity to grab the man’s tan wrists, causing him to let out a shrill yelp.

“Who are you?” Thranduil hissed, his back bent and his fiery expression hovering close to the frightened one the brunette held. The blonde’s blue eyes seared right through that innocent looking gaze the stranger had, but then something changed that confused Thranduil even more: the brunette flashed his teeth at him again, points and all, in a massive grin before breaking out into a ringing laughter.

“I’m very sorry! I forgot you wouldn’t recognize me like this. It’s me, Bard!”

“ _What?_ ”

“See?”

Thranduil’s grip had slackened enough now that the brunette could move his arms freely, and he grabbed both of his cat ears by the tip and wiggled them. He then turned around and bent over to show off his waving tail, his collar bell jingling as he did so, but Thranduil wasn’t concerned with the tail. The view of the man’s rear end startled him into a blush so aggressive that a soft sound of distress passed his lips and he had to look away.

“I get it, you’re supposed to be a cat!” he lashed, angry with every facet of this situation. His mind was a mess and at odds with his body raging with surfacing desires.

“Oh, right. How silly of me. Humans get all riled up when they see others naked.” The stranger spoke nonchalantly, but there was a hint of amusement hiding within his tone that accompanied his smirk. “And I’m not _supposed_ to be a cat, I _am_. Well, a lot of the time I am. I’m always _part_ cat, but not for long! Oh, this is so great, mister, you have no idea! Hey, look at me!... _Look!”_

The stranger, supposedly Bard, yanked on Thranduil’s hand and forced him to spin around. As he faced the brunette again, he lost all will to shout at him and makes threats of physical violence. _What was wrong with him?_ Thranduil should yell, attack him, call the police! Everything this person was saying was ludacris! But as his vision was directed to what the brunette was showing him, it all seemed not so ludacris at all. In fact, now it seemed that there was no denying what this stranger was telling him was true as Thranduil saw a pattern of pale scars standing out against the foreign, tan complexion.

He’d clearly been too initially shocked to notice their presence before, but now, the scars were all Thranduil could see. He’d traced his fingertips over those scars, felt every indent, analyzed them…the brunette reached out and lightly guided Thranduil’s hands until they rested on those marks. He wore a soft smile and batted his eyelashes at the baffled blonde.

“See? Don’t you remember?” he asked, cocking his head to the side inquisitively.

Thranduil’s curiosity seized him, and so he let his hands leisurely graze over the healed skin to soak in it’s the familiar texture. The man did not shudder beneath his touch; he only watched the tall blonde as he was touched with a smile and a pleasant hum resonating in his throat that almost sounded like…like a _purr_.

There was no mistaking it. Thranduil could not forget what such wounds felt like and looked like. Those were Bard’s scars. Bard _the cat’s_ scars.

“AHGH! Hey! That’s not very nice petting!” Bard cried as Thranduil grabbed his ears and felt desperately at where they were attached to the man’s head, looking for a band, a string, glue – _anything_ that would elude to the ears being fake! He tugged on them in hopes of wriggling them off and the brunette shrieked, swiping his hand at Thranduil’s face and scratching him deeper than expected.

With a gasp, Thranduil staggered backward. He felt his stinging cheek and as he looked at his fingers, there were red droplets lingering there from his open scratches. He grabbed the stranger’s wrist roughly and glared sharply at his fingernails. God, they were _claws!_

“Stop that!” Bard screeched and pulled away with a “hmmph!”. He frowned at his sore skin, his eyes glancing at Thranduil before he licked the red ring around his wrist. “You’re not supposed to be mean! You’re supposed to be _perfect_ , the _one!_ You were nice to me yesterday and I was certain it was you instead of-”

“YESTERDAY YOU WERE A CAT, NOT A PERSON!” Thranduil yelled, losing all self-control. Yes, the buildup of every passing, outlandish moment finally broke him and he was defeated, but wouldn’t anyone else be the same?

“I’m not a person, technically. I’m a moonie.” Bard stated. His hazel eyes glistening with specks of gold were void of all previous excitement, kindness, and wonder they once possessed as they glowered at Thranduil.

Thranduil waved his arms angrily, ready to explode, but he instead took Bard by the arm and started dragging him from the bed, much to the “moonie”’s dislike. His bum went right to the floor as he slid off the bed with a thud. He struggled and protested, mewling out noises of frustration, but Thranduil didn’t care. He knew exactly who was responsible for this mess and he was not about to let them get away with it.

“This hurts!” Bard whined, being pulled across the carpet floor on his bare bottom.

“We’re leaving. Right now.”

“Where are you taking me? Please don’t leave me in the woods or I’ll have to start all over again! I won’t scratch you again, I promise!”

“We’re going to the pet shop.” Thranduil grumbled in reply.

“Oh, to see Gandalf?”

“ _Oh, to see Gandalf?_ ” Thranduil mocked, but suddenly Bard wasn’t moving any further. He’d planted his heels into the floor and was looking at Thranduil with his brows furrowed, clearly disapproving the fashion in which he was being moved.

“If you’re fine with me going out naked then so am I, but I know humans don’t approve of such things unless it’s in a private manner. And I will either walk or be carried. I will not be dragged.”

Oh, right. He was _naked_. Thranduil briskly turned away and stalked over to his dresser. He pulled out the first t-shirt and pair of boxers he saw and then promptly delivered them in their folds to Bard.

“Start with these. I’ll have to search for pants that will fit.” He spoke. After Bard just kept staring at the clothes, Thranduil gritted his teeth in annoyance. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to help me?”

“ _Help you?”_

“I can’t dress on my own. I don’t know how.” Bard explained simply.

_Dear lord almighty, give him strength._

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“You can talk, but you can’t put on clothes?”

“No, I can’t. Not well. I always end up sticking things in the wrong places and getting out of it becomes a hassle. I can just stay like this it it’s so much trouble for you to help me. I don’t mind, really. Clothes are itchy anyway.” Though the string of sentences wasn’t intended to sound snarky, something about it stung Thranduil and made his eyebrow twitch.

“And how do you know that?”

“Well, this thing is.” Bard slipped his finger between the blue, buckled and accessorized strap he wore and his neck and pulled on it a bit. “I only picked this one because I didn’t like the other colors and I knew he would pick one no matter what. And the bell gets annoying, too. Just _dingdingdingding_ , every time I move! I’ve tried clothes before, but-”

“Stand up.”

Bard was only just starting to rise when Thranduil took him by the arm and guided him up more quickly. He was quite tall, though not as tall as Thranduil himself, and his standing posture was upright. Thranduil focused on keeping his vision above Bard’s neck, as not to get… _flustered_ any more than he already was. He draped the boxers over his arm, flung the t-shirt from its nice fold, and then shoved it over Bard’s head. Thranduil noticed quickly how unpleasant Bard smelled up close. With a grunt, he lifted Bard’s limp arms and tried to guide them through the arm holes while ignoring his stink.

“You can at least _try_.” Thranduil grumbled and was promptly smacked in the face with a flailing arm. “Enough!” he snarled.

“You said to try, but I can’t see anything!” Bard argued, his head still trapped beneath the cloth. Thranduil ripped the material down so the brunette’s head popped out and then he managed to get one arm where it was supposed to be. He did the next, and Bard was successfully half clothed. Thranduil still had to seek out a pair of bottoms that would fit Bard (any pants of his would be far too long), but before there could be pants, there had to be an undergarment donned. He’d been dreading this moment since clothing was mentioned. As long as he didn’t look and he didn’t touch anything, there was no reason to get in a fuss. Thranduil swallowed thickly as he held out the pair of boxers and kept his eyes on Bard’s face.

“Step into these.”

“I think you’re holding them a little high.”

“This is ridiculous.” Thranduil muttered as he knelt to the floor, thus lowering the underwear to a more accessible level for Bard to step into.

He looked to the side and kept his neck, his head, and his eyes locked in that direction as not to stare right into what he imagined was dangling in his face. He jolted in surprise as Bard planted his palms on Thranduil’s shoulders for balance. The brunette lifted one leg tentatively and slowly fit it into one hole. He did so with the next and Thranduil stood hastily, glad that the worst was over (as far as this dressing session was concerned). Bard fumbled as he pulled the boxers up, up, up to his bellybutton. Thranduil dared to glance down to make sure nothing was hanging out that shouldn’t be and a small chuckle bubbled up through his frustration. It was pretty comical looking, he had to admit. He could have just let the poor cat-man-thing go around with his underwear fixed like that, but he decided against it. He took the boxers by their sides, sliding them down to Bard’s hips with a faint blush creeping over his cheeks.

“Am I done now?” Bard questioned with impatience threading his voice.

“No. You need pants.”

“But everything is covered now! Isn’t this enough?” he pressed, picking at the t-shirt.

“Out of the two of us, _I’m_ the one who knows what you need for clothes and you need pants.”

He filled his chest with air and proudly strode out of the room. He was doing a fine job handling this situation and he would continue to do so. He walked straight into Legolas’ bedroom down the hall, knowing that his son’s apparel would be more likely to fit Bard than his own, with Bard hurriedly following after him.

“ _Come on_ , let’s just _go!_ Or better, we can stay here and _I’ll_ tell you everything you want to know! All it will take is for you to pet me just once.”

Thranduil didn’t bother giving Bard an answer, for his mind was made up. He needed to see the old man that had cursed him with this…this man-cat-thing, “moonie”, or whatever he was. Whatever he was, Thranduil didn’t need or want any trouble in his life, especially now; the future of his career had to be his primary focus (along with his son of course), not the fact that he had a man-mutant living in his house. His head was packed with self-scolding; what a fool Thranduil had been to be manipulated by that sneaky clerk when he knew something was up all along! The dormant fury in him, which had only been so for a matter of minutes since he last shouted, had been rekindled by such thoughts. He loathed being deceived and he was going to set Gandalf straight no matter what it took.

He sorted through his son’s drawers with his nostrils flaring as harsh inhales and infuriated exhales kept shooting in and out of them. However, he was as delicate as possible, not wanting to take out his emotions on Legolas’ belongings. He heard the tinkle of Bard’s bell float across the room and the squeak of Legolas’ bed, so he paused to peer over his shoulder and see what the brunette was up to. Low and behold, he was perched on the well-made bed as he swatted Legolas’ silver watch across it with a concentration fixed on his face.

“Stop that.” Thranduil whipped and Bard looked up at him with utter guiltlessness painting his features.

“Why? He lets me do it.”

“I don’t care. Put it back.” The blonde demanded, turning back to the drawers with a roll of his eyes. Of course Legolas would let the cat do everything Thranduil would disapprove of. Thanduil wouldn’t have minded so much, but now it turned out the cat also had a human consciousness with the form to match, meaning there would be more of “ _But Legolas let me do it_ ”.

He was almost to the bottom of the drawer he was prying through when he found a pair of jeans he knew were not a particular favorite of his son’s, but they were still in good condition. They would do just fine. Bard was now sprawled across the mattress, lounging as he fiddled with his collar and Thranduil waved his fingers for him to stand.

“Come on. Let’s get these on.” He demanded and Bard let out a clearly unwilling sigh. “I’m the one doing it all for you, so I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“I don’t want to go back to the pet shop.”

Thranduil paused, clutching the jeans tight in his hands before shaking his head and then walking to the closet. He opened it up and picked a baseball cap from the rack hanging from the inside of the door.

“You’re going to need this too. Come on, get up. You can be lazy later.”

“You haven’t even pet me yet.”

“Forget about the petting. I’m not petting you.”

“Why?”

Bard rolled onto his side with his hands beneath his head to serve as a pillow, his eyes looking up at Thranduil most pleadingly. His thin tail was slowly swishing back and forth from where it poked out of the edge of the boxers in the back, catching the blonde’s attention. He let it distract him for a moment and realized how fast his head was spinning. The rush of emotions that washed over him was draining, and the waves of mixed feelings were still crashing over him with every word Bard uttered and every movement he made. He had to keep looking at the scars the man wore to affirm that what was happening was real.

These kinds of things didn’t happen to people in real life, and they certainly didn’t happen to Thranduil Greenleaf, but then again, he never thought something like having his wife suddenly ripped from the living world would happen to him either. Even still, death was more likely to happen than encountering a mythical creature, of sorts.

As a child he’d always believed in magic, but like so many, he grew out of that frame of mind, for he came to discover there was no room for such farfetched fantasies in the adult world. After years of putting on a façade during the holidays and writing mock notes to Legolas from figures like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, he was suddenly wondering if his disbelief in them was unwarranted now that he had this creature in front of him. What else was out there that he didn’t know about? There were so many unanswered questions swirling in his mind, all of which would have to wait.

“Just stop arguing. We need to get there before the shop closes.” Thranduil said resolutely.

“You can go, but I’m staying here until the other one comes back.”

The thought of Legolas stumbling upon Bard in this condition was petrifying. He’d probably swoon over him even more than he already was!

“You’re coming with me.” Thranduil pressed in a near growl.

“No I’m not.” Bard replied casually.

“Yes you are.”

“Let’s just both stay here. Come lay with me, grumpy old cat.” Bard extended both arms, inviting Thranduil to the space between them. Thranduil squinted his eyes with a glint of suspicion burning in them.

“What did you just call me?”

“Grumpy old cat. That’s what Gandalf called you.” Bard chuckled.

“It was my son who called me that, but I see the old man relayed the message to you. What else did he tell you, hm?”

“Pet me and I’ll tell you!”

“I. Am. Not. Petting. You.”

“Then. I. Am. Not. Going. With. You. Or. Telling. You. An-y-thing.”

“Well, Gandalf will talk and I'm not letting you out of my sight. I especially will not leave you here for Legolas to come home to until I have the answers I need. Gandalf said he’d give me the truth once I asked the right questions, and right now I’ve got a lot of them. Now get up so I can help you into these pants and we can leave.”

“Mm, nope.” Bard rose to his knees, slipping his thumbs under the waistband of the underwear hanging at his hips and lowering them teasingly. “Must I convince you to stay by human means? Then will you pet me, mister?”

“Stop calling me that and get up before I come over there.” Thranduil threatened through his vicious blush.

“Fine, come over here and lay with me!”

“I’m done with the games!” Thranduil yelled and Bard fell back onto his bottom, his ears pinning down to his head shyly. “Stand up and get over here, _now_.”

“No, because I know exactly what’s going to happen.” Bard shot back lowly. The expression taking over his sweet face was completely serious, taking Thranduil by surprise. “I’m not as clueless as you may think. You obviously don’t want anything to do with me so you’re going to take me back there and leave me there. I’m not getting ditched there to rot some more. Now if you’ll just listen to me-”

“You’re the pet and I’m the master. You don’t get to have a choice.” Thranduil interjected with a harsh rasp.

Guilt instantly flooded over him as silence stung the air and Bard’s stare pierced through him as if he were only a sheer veil that had committed some unforgivable crime against him. The brunette briskly turned away from him with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I was there for so long, waiting for _you_ …or who I thought you were. Another dud, it seems.” Bard spoke emptily.

Thranduil felt compelled to reach out for him to provide some sort of comfort, but he did not move any closer, remembering the cuts that Bard had dug into his cheek. Now that he’d deeply offended Bard, there was no telling how he would react to Thranduil.

The blonde gave a pardoning sigh, sweeping off all of Bard’s minor offenses that had irritated him, for he surely didn’t mean to make his life difficult. If anything, Thranduil was the one making things difficult; there were obviously many things Bard wanted to share with him, but Thranduil’s own stubbornness prevented proper communication between the two. After all, Bard was a type of being that craved affection and Thranduil could not justly punish him for that.

Thranduil had realized his error in calling Bard the “pet” was a grave one; he was an animal lover, yet he was treating this creature with cruelty and objectifying him. The crushing stress of the unraveling scenario was no excuse for his behavior; no matter what features he had, Bard deserved to be treated with kindness and respect. Thranduil knew what he had to do.

“I’m sorry.” Thranduil spoke gently one of Bard’s ears twitched, but he did not turn around.

Thranduil gradually stepped closer and closer to the bed until Bard was within arm’s reach. He rested his hand on top of Bard’s head and gave in to the brunette’s wishes, softly massaging his fingertips behind the half-raised cat ears. Bard hummed quietly and after a moment of deliberation, Bard seemed to have forgiven the man, leaning into his tender touch and his ears pointing upward.

“You mean that.” Bard spoke, his voice once again light. It was not a question, but an observation. He knew the apology was truly genuine.

“I do.” Thranduil agreed with a nod and smiled slightly as Bard tilted his head back and rubbed it into his palm.

“ _Hmm_ …do we still have to go the shop?"

"Yes. I really would like to and would appreciate it if you accompanied me."

"I still don't see why we have to...are you going to be nice to me if I put the pants on?"

"Yes, I promise." Thranduil answered rapidly, overjoyed that the brunette was finally willing to comply.

"Fine. Give me the pants, or I’ll just sit here and let you pet me all night long.” Bard said, turning and then laying on his back. He stuck his legs out into the air and wiggled his toes in Thranduil’s face. “Come on, mister! You were in _such_ a hurry!”

“Put this on your head to cover your ears.”  Thranduil said and tossed the baseball cap onto Bard’s chest with a subtle laugh that relieve the stiffness in his body quite a bit.

He didn’t bother making any comments about the position in which Bard insisted on being dressed; he was just glad he finally agreed to put the jeans on. He rolled each pant leg up before guiding Bard’s legs in and when he had come that far, he gestured for Bard to stand and pull them up himself. The brunette did so with no protest (thank god), but Thranduil had to do the button for him. He poked the button through its designated hole swiftly. He checked over the hat area for himself to make sure nothing “abnormal” was exposed. He aligned the brim so it was straight and noted that Bard’s curls could have been neater, but Thranduil wasn’t about to try to run a brush through them and have another battle.

“Do I look human enough now?” Bard asked, extending his arms and twirling around. He admired his reflection as he caught it in the mirror and giggled, amused with his appearance. “He was right. I’m very cute!”

“A cute cat, maybe.” Thranduil scoffed with a chuckle as he plucked a glass cologne bottle from one of Legolas’ tabletops.

“What, you don’t think I look cute in this form?” Bard questioned with his brows raised, as if he were actually concerned with what Thranduil thought of him. The blonde scanned Bard up and down and definitely found him to be _very_ cute…adorable, in fact. Maybe even attractive, handsome, sexy…no, no! He had to keep in mind that such attraction would be unnatural, so he ignored answering the question completely and raised each of Bard’s arms to spritz his pits with cologne. “AGH! What’s that smell?! It’s so strong!” Bard choked out and waved his hands frantically to get the fragrance away from him. Thranduil’s eyes widened as Bard stuck out his tongue and craned his neck to try to lick it off.

“No!”

Thranduil planted his hands on either side of Bard’s face to coax him away from his armpit. Bard swung his head around swiftly and their faces were suddenly a mere few centimeters apart. Thranduil’s breath hitched loudly in a gasp as Bard leaned forward and he stepped backward in alarm. Just as he stepped back, Bard stepped forward and his foot caught the back of Thranduil’s heel. Thranduil gripped Bard tightly in hopes that his balance was still intact and that he could catch him before falling onto the floor, but his efforts were hopeless as Bard squeaked and thumped down onto his chest just as Thranduil’s back hit the floor. The air in his lungs shot out and he groaned in despair, feeling the heaviness of Bard’s weight on his chest.

When he opened his eyes he shuddered, seeing Bard staring at him from under the visor of Legolas’ hat. He leaned down and Thranduil felt tremors jitter throughout his entire body, but the tremors shook most violently in his lips. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest that he was sure Bard could feel it. There were a thousand things zooming through his mind at once: Why wasn’t he trying to stop Bard? Was this right? Was it wrong? Would he resist? Would he kiss the strange, otherworldly creature back? Why? Why not? Why was he so nervous like a teenager anticipating their first kiss?

He squeezed his eyes shut just as he expected their lips to touch, but what he felt instead was the cap’s brim tapping his forehead and their noses brushing. His lids fluttered open to meet Bard’s direct and enchanting gaze. He ogled at the flakes of gold glittering at him, the brunette’s laugh and the ringing of the bell on his collar sounding faintly in the back of Thranduil's head as Bard rubbed their noises together. The moment was broken as soon as he leapt nimbly off of him and started yanking on Thranduil’s arm to help him up.

“Come on, grumpy old cat! You can’t be _that_ old! Get up! Up, up! We’ve got a lot to do!”


End file.
